


Cure for imsomnia

by captainhurricane



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Masturbation, Someone give this man a break
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 11:10:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8011384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainhurricane/pseuds/captainhurricane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exactly what it says in the tin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cure for imsomnia

Finding a moment for himself had become tough lately. Sure, the doors to their rooms could be locked but Shiro tended to get back into his just to sleep, bone-deep tired after training sessions and rescue missions. Sure, he gets to sleep alone but not much else. Breakfast is shared with at least two of his companions at all times. So is lunch and dinner if there is any to be had. Even at night Shiro might bump into someone in the halls: Hunk looking for a late-night snack or Keith returning late from the training room.

 

Not to mention how often Shiro's companions seemed to need late advice on this and that and kept knocking into his door. So much for indulging in his other needs.

 

Whatever he remembers of his time between this moment and his kidnapping is mostly pain and panic attacks so he figures there hasn't been much time for self-reflection since then. His motivation to even join in on the conversation about Lance's latest crush on an alien girl or if Keith ever had anyone is close to zero. It's not Shiro is ever completely uninterested, his parts still work and all but everything relationships and sex usually entails seem like too much of a hindrance to his work.

 

So it takes him a long while to notice how alone he is one evening in the castle kitchens.

”Guys?” He blinks, looks up from the pad he had been idly tapping on while nibbling on a protein cracker. It tastes like the stale, cardboard-ish crackers of Earth so maybe that's why he keeps eating them.

 

”Oh,” he murmurs and lowers the pad, rubbing his eyes. Getting used to the artificial day and night-cycle of the castle-ship had taken a while but Shiro does wonder if he'll ever stop feeling tired in some way. It might have been months but it still gives him a start to see himself with his new arm and scars in the mirror.

 

Shiro takes the pad and the boxful of crackers with him as he steps into the dark, silent hallway. He shuts the kitchen lights with a tap of his fingers and lets the doors hiss closed behind him as he makes his way to his own room. Just a few steps away are his fellow Paladins, probably mostly asleep or close to it. Shiro wishes that they'll keep their questions and advice-seekings for the next day because right now Shiro feels a need for something for himself.

 

He didn't get the same sort of sexual urges as most when he was a teenager, only lost his virginity to an older pilot who had been more experienced because his classmates had kept insisting. Shiro figures he likes it fine enough and had kind of missed having a hand around his dick that isn't his own but that will do.

 

He's tried before but hadn't managed to get himself off: had even thought about using his Galra-made hand but had stopped the thought with a shudder of disgust. Now, though. Why not? It's his goddamn hand. He's not old yet. None of his fellow castle-dwellers are likely to end up rolling in bed with him so his own hand will do.

 

 _What if I don't know how anymore?_ He snorts at the ridiculousness of his thought but can't quite shake it, even as he dims the light of his room and shucks off his shirt.

 

The longing for Earth hits him then, wind and sand and the pleasing weight of hot summer evenings on his skin. There is nothing natural about the atmosphere of the castle-ship, the structure lives and breathes with the memories of a civilization lost and it just serves to remind Shiro he isn't at home. None of them are.

 

He grabs himself through his pants, still standing in the middle of his room and takes a deep breath. Thinks about Earth; men, women, all those in-between. Thinks about long legs. Laughter ringing in the clear air. Life without war. A bed comfortable underneath bare skin. Shiro keeps up a rubbing motion, shoves his sweats and his briefs out of the way and barely remembers to spit on his hand as he takes his dick in hand.

 

He sighs and climbs on the bed, kicks off his clothes all the way. On his back he spreads his legs and takes himself into hand again. Tries to remember the earlier years before his kidnapping, hands on his and mouths on his. His groin stirs, he drags his fingers up and down the sides, rubs curiously at the tip and twitches when it sends a pleasant jolt up his spine.

 

Shiro hums and spits in his hand again, grabs his dick and tries again with another angle. Ah, there. His eyes flutter close, his teeth find his lip as he thinks about faceless, toned bodies under him, top of himself, a pleasant warmth- memory-induced or not- running through him. He moves his hips, moves his dick through the circle made of his fingers and gasps. It takes his tired mind a moment to register he's started to move his other hand as well, its tickling the soft trail of hair on his stomach and going upwards to his chest.

 

His mind induces images, sights, sounds. Voices saying his name: not like the voices in his nightmares and panic attacks, these voices call to him lovingly. Shiro's first groan vibrates low in his throat as he slips his hand lower to gently squeeze his balls: slips the other hand higher to squeeze his nipples, pulling and tweaking them until he winces and finds them hard.

 

That hand, Galra's hand forcibly given to him, stills on his stomach, curls itself into a fist. He squeezes his dick harder and increases the pace with which his hips are bumping up, letting out another shaky, unsteady groan. His breathing has finally increased, his dick steadily hardening in his hand. Shiro brings his Galra-hand to his mouth and bites a finger, takes it into his mouth as he palms the tip of his dick harder. His moan comes out muffled but still its loudness startles him; as does the surprising warmth of Galra's fingers in his mouth. He takes three of them between his lips, wraps his tongue around them and sucks, does it in the same rhythm as the hand jerking off his dick.

 

The act brings more heat to his cheeks, drags up more blood into his dick that's now proudly raising towards the ceiling. He squirms, the movements of his hands now irregular in their rhythm but it's still not enough. His body buzzes, low noises of pleasure slipping from his lips as he pleasures himself. With a low curse he lets the fingers slip from his mouth and stills, taking a deep breath.

 

Shiro swallows, glad that there isn't a mirror nearby. He doesn't know if he wants to see himself like this: red-faced, hard and naked. He runs his Galra-hand down his chest, twitches when a slicked fingertip stops to tease a nipple. He squeezes his eyes closed once more and gets on his knees, spreading his legs as much as he can. Reaches behind himself to find his ass: firm and untouched by everyone but himself.

 

”Oh,” is hissed into the silence of the room as he pushes one metallic fingertip inside himself. ”Yes,” is hissed again as he starts moving it, wipes his drooling mouth with his palm and wraps it around his dick. Up and down, that hand goes, spreads the small droplets of pre-cum on the impressive thickness. In and out, his finger goes, to feel how wet and warm he is on the inside.

 

Shiro bites hard on his lip, chews on it as his hands seem to gain a life of their own. His entire body shudders as a second finger worms its way in, rubbing and massaging and caressing the incredibly tight muscle of his entrance, slipping knuckle-deep into himself. His thighs tremble as he increases his pace, ignores the ache of his wrists. He moans, pushing and pulling against his hand, his ass clenching tight and inviting around his fingers.

 

”Oh, oh-” his mouth is hanging open, his tongue flicking over his wet lips. His mind offers him nothing but thoughts of various hands on him, mouths sucking him off, people bending over for him, him bending over for others and just taking and giving and taking and giving.

 

Shiro shifts, turning his head just a bit to squint into the dark to see the swell of his own ass and the gleaming metal diving between his asscheeks.

”By the-” he hisses, twists his fingers, palms his balls and with the tightening of his abs, starts to pump out thin, short bursts of cum. Shiro gasps and whines, keeps on fingerfucking himself through it, pumping his dick until nothing more comes out and only then does he pull his fingers out.

 

He swears again under his breath and idly gives his spent dick a few strokes, whimpering at how sensitive it's gotten. His mind is blissfully empty, his body pleasantly hot. Shiro sighs, takes a deep breath and flops back down on the bed, careful not to lay on the wet spot. He wipes his hands on his thighs and knows he should clean himself up.

 

He's out like a light before he can finish the thought.

 


End file.
